Glacial Odium
by NelyanaPhonexia
Summary: Lucius Malfoy is egotistical and manipulative. How far will he go to ensure that his son will be on his side forever? What has Draco given up to free himself of his father? Rating increased to "M" for violence.
1. Today is a new day

Glacial odium

Summary: Lucius Malfoy is egotistical, manipulative and furtive. How far will he go to ensure that his son will be on his side forever? What has Draco given up to free himself of his father? He will have to give up his icy hatred for the world to realize what he was living without his whole life.

Note: I don't own anything that you know as being vaguely familiar. The plot is mine, and mine alone.

**Glacial Odium**

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**Glacial – adj. – 1. of or pertaining to glaciers or ice sheets. 2. Resulting from or associated with the action of ice or glaciers, a glacial terrain. 3. Characterized by the presence of ice in extensive masses or glaciers. 4. Bitterly cold, icy: a glacial winter wind. 5. Happening or moving extremely slowly: the work proceeded at a glacial pace. 6. Icily unsympathetic or immovable: a glacial stare, glacial indifference.

Odium – noun – 1. Intense hatred or dislike, especially towards a person or think regarded as contemptible, despicable or repugnant. 2. The reproach, discredit or opprobrium attaching to something hated or repugnant: he had to bear the odium of neglecting his family. 3. The state or quality of being hated

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CHAPTER 1

_He ran through a pair of large carved wooden doors after a slim girl dressed in only loose pair of jeans, a tank top and sneakers – hardly attire for a stormy and rainy night, even if it was warm. Her hair flew fiercely behind her whipping at her face, she ran with a purpose and with all the speed she could muster. She didn't get far before he caught her and pulled her harshly around seizing her upper arms with a severe force. _

_He glared down at her flushed features, "Running outside into a storm like this, I should have your head for this you obstinate little brat! Why are you trying to kill me?"_

_She peeled his hands off her upper arms and slid her petite hands into his and stopped giggling madly to answer, "I would never try to kill you, love," she drew the last word out as her face turned dark and playful as she kept her eyes locked to his, "But I would like to see you catch me!" calling as she sprinted away toward the lake._

_Catching her was not the problem, running through the rain and watching the ground for tree roots and slippery mud were the problems at hand. She slowed her pace down when she reached the lake and turned back to see him catching up to her. The lake glistened in the moon light and crested in small waves from the whipping wind. At the shore she her breath caught in her throat– he was drenched, wearing no more than she was and the slightly muscled outline of his upper torso was covered in a semi-transparent button up shirt. He slowed at the foot of the lake and glowered at her. Sauntering up, he drooped his arms around her neck and replaced the unhappy façade with laughter as he pushed back some of the wet hair from her face._

_"I'm actually more worried about you getting sick from your crazy antics, you know," he whispered almost inaudibly as he smoothed her hair out against her head. _

_She tilted her head up and gazed skeptically, "My, my, you finally care more about someone else than you care about your own well being - and your hair for that matter."_

_ She wrinkled her nose impishly as he reclaimed his well-known haughty poise – which looked ridiculous in the rain. "You better watch your tongue," he paused dramatically and stood to his total height – which would have been frightening to another person in a different situation – then he drawled in a menacing low voice so much like his fathers, "or you will pay with…your…LIFE!" He quickly spun her around and started tickling her until they were both wet and muddy on the ground. _

_She regained her composure and pulled him closer to her wet body and let her fingers push some of his hair back from his forehead where it had been plastered by rain, "And wouldn't that be a terrible pity?" _

_He looked down at her seriously, and leaned into her ear, "No, it wouldn't," he paused to kiss her tender neck as she shivered in the warm night rain, "It would be the death of me," he swept her face up in his hand and pressed his lips over hers. _

_She pulled away slowly, "I bring out the best in you, and it's quite awful no one else knows how loving and gentile you really are." With a smile she leaned her forehead onto his chest, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her and leaned up against a tree stump. _

_He closed his eyes and sighed, "You make me want to be a better person, and make me want to be so much stronger than I am. I'm so much weaker without you – you make living every passing day worth it, no matter how hard it is, you truly are my savior." He opened his eyes and looked down at her mud stained face and wiped away a clump off her nose with his thumb, "You know you really bring that out in people - their weaknesses."_

_She laughed lightly, "I do what?"_

_He embraced her body with his strong arms, "You make every man within about a mile weak..." He winked at her, "…in the knees, that is." He pulled her closer – if that was even possible and leaned in for another kiss. _

His mind drifted back to where he was now, sitting at his kitchen table in the middle of his almost empty, bitter house. There were curtains, wood floors, but no one really lived here at all. He had not been a whole person in about a decade. He could have moved on but there was no desire. Desire had died when she eradicated his heart.

He slowly crept up to the ice covered window, and grazed his fingers on the frosty glass. He pulled his fingers away and shoved his hand back into his ridged wool coat. Most people would think having to wear a coat in a home was not normal, but this wasn't really a home. Just a place he got his mail and stayed for the night. The loss of heat was rather apropos seeing as how it matched his solid frozen heart and iron will, not to mention the ice storm outside.

Ten years after graduating from school, life had been difficult. Jobs were hard to come by, especially for him, but money was a mute matter. He still had his pride, but that was about it. He had no family and no friends. It was expected after he changed his mind. He never knew why he made the change after all those years. He would never give one person sole credit for everything.

He let his mind slip into the past – his memories were a tangled mess of anger, hate and jealousy entwined with love, adoration and devotion. Upon graduating from school he still had everything he ever wanted – minus his own dignity. He slammed his fist onto the table – it was too early to dwell on the painful past. Truth be told, he was just as weak as he swore he would never be. He scowled and drug his feet into the cold kitchen. He thought that maybe this morning would be the morning that a warm cup of coffee would make the soreness of years gone by recede.

He fingered through some old papers lying on the mini bar: old bills that had been paid, old debts that has also been paid, but he paused at a long forgotten yellowing paper. He pulled it from the open file gingerly. They were the signed papers for the land and the house in which he lived now. His neat, noble signature was next to a zealous, almost illegible name next to his. It was the first big move in their relationship. Their home. It was something she had wanted for them. Now it was his - alone. A tear threatened to run its course down his frosty cheek. It would never get there, because he knew why she wasn't there. It was his fault, wholly, entirely and completely. He put the paper back in its place and pulled the paper he was in search of. Regret was for another day he decided.

The day passed quickly and when night consumed the sky he sat in front of the still fire. This day was like most others, he woke had his morning coffee, sorted through papers in hope of actually finding something worth his time, have a brief lunch, then resume the paper work and finally he would resign for the day after his second and final meal of the day with a glass of brandy at the fire. He stared blankly at the fire, no this day was not quite like the rest – most days he was dead to all emotion. Today he let his subconscious penetrate his daily thoughts. He thought of _her_ today. He threw his crystal glass, still half full with dark liquid into the fire. It roared for a minute and with a flick of his hand it was out in half a second.

He pulled himself into his sheets for the night, he knew he would never change his ways, maybe tomorrow he would do something different and forget the mundane paper work he resigned to everyday for the sake of a family he never even loved. Then again he thought of changing his routine every night. It never happened. It hadn't happened in almost a year now. Maybe tomorrow - maybe. As his eyes shut in the chilly room, the black icy storm in his mind would take over until he woke.


	2. Self inflicted loneliness

Ok, so I hoped for a few more reviwes than 2, but I take what I can get. :-)

To Pip08 - thank you for reading! I really appreciate it! I was just curious as to whom you thought was dead, because so far I haven't killed anyone. Maybe I need to explain things better...but I do reveal the death of someone in this chapter. So that makes up for it...

Again, thank you for the reviews I did get and all of those other people that read this and didn't review: I would really really REALLY gets down on knees like it if you reviewed, too. Well, I finished up to chapter 4...but I'm still editing all of the errors and stuff out of them. So, be patient I will get them up ASAP. Here is chapter 2...

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Glacial Odium

CHAPTER 2

_The sun was glistening on the small ripples of the lake and the sun shone down on his silky hair. Two people strode along the edge of the lake, he walked about one step behind her following her every move with his steely stare. She wore his favorite yellow sun dress and had flowers braided into her hair. He strolled slowly and one step behind her to take in her beauty. He knew she would never believe how beautiful he thought she was, but he tried everyday to make her believe him. She was more stubborn than anyone else he knew, and that was saying a lot. _

_His movements caught up with his thoughts as he caught up to her resting his hand on the small of her back and pulled her closer to him. "What're you thinking?" he posed nonchalantly, but with greater motives. _

_She eyed him carefully knowing that he never asked anything unless it was leading to something more important. "I was just thinking that I should have eaten something less fatty this morning, and wondering why you aren't embarrassed to be seen in public with me all of the sudden." She pulled at his arm, bringing their heads closer together as she whispered, "If you are going to walk a close distance from me, next time it better be in front so I know you aren't ogling me." _

_He laughed shortly and quipped, "Well, I should be able to ogle my own girlfriend, plus I like the view from the back" his insides cringed knowing what was coming next, but he spoke nothing but the truth, so he felt no regret and played it cool by winking at her._

_She turned on her heels walked a few steps and turned her head back to glance at him while appearing as angry as someone whole-heartedly in love could, "Well, at least I know you aren't dating me for the wrong reasons!" She turned to walk away without him again at the exact moment he clutched he wrist and pulled her back to him. He ran his fingers through her glistening hair and fingered a stray piece. "I have something to propose to you," he chose his words more carefully as he continued, "I would like to take," he motioned his index finger between them, "_us_ a step farther, you know to make this seem more permanent" He glanced down at her, wondering if her mind went to the same thought his did. Oh crap, he thought, she thinks I'm going to ask her to marry me, I don't want to get her hopes up, and I'm just not ready for _that _kind of commitment. He searched his thoughts for some thing to recover his blunder. _

_Her mind whirled. Oh gods, he is going to ask me to marry him. I can't do that. My parents wouldn't know what to think. _I _don't know what to think! I can't get married I'm only 19 and he is only 20! This isn't happening, oh shi- _

_He broke the momentary eternity of silence, "I was thinking you would like to move in with me, and out of your parent's home. We have graduated after all," he hoped this would resolve all of their qualms. _

_She burst out in a sudden peel of laughter and he looked crushed as she spoke through a smile, "Oh gods, yes! I would love to! Oh, I was hoping you would ask me that!" She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the corner of his mouth before continuing, "I hate living at home, mind you I love my family, but they are just a little too hard to take after all the freedom of school and graduation."_

_A sigh of relief passed through his lips and he pulled at her waist, "I can only imagine what goes on in that house of yours," he leaned down and kissed her soundly on the lips before backing away and looking towards the graying sky. "I was so worried about your answer and what you would think." He said with a crooked grin. _

_She chuckled knowing exactly what he meant, and pulled his lips down her hers and kissed him passionately, the way she knew he liked her to kiss him. Two eyes shone from across the lake assuring that it would be their last kiss. _

He bolted up from his bed and rubbed his eyes to find a sun filled room. He winced; realization did not hit him until a moment later: there were no windows in this bedroom. He was not used to the way the unusual light flooded the room from his gaping door and affected his eyes as he sheltered them with his left hand and rubbed his sore temples with his right. He decided to investigate the source of the warm glow filling his aching eyes. A sharp sound of broken ceramic resonated over the hard wood flooring and he stood quickly and grabbed his winter robe swishing through his bedroom door and down the hallway towards the stairs. He slowly crept around the corner of the sitting room which led into his kitchen - someone was defiantly in his house and in the kitchen. Only two people knew he lived here. Nether of those people would be pleasant to visit with. He heard a clatter of metal from the same direction as the ceramic and that he knew of there was nothing but tea in there, besides maybe some dishes, and other utensils – therefore, he decided, no one was here to rob him. He snapped back to his normal façade and became disgustedly indignant that there was someone in his home, who woke him up, inadvertently as it was, and did not come invited or with letting him know of their presence. Old characteristics die hard, he laughed to himself before turning the corner rebelliously. There stood one of the last people he would have ever thought he would have laid eyes on in his kitchen, much less fixing a cup of hot tea by herself with her own two hands

"Mother," he gaped at the thin, elegant blonde woman, "what in hell are you doing in my kitchen making tea?"

She smiled her cool elegant smile. "I thought I would pop by and see my son, after all it has been a bit since I have seen you. Why? Can't a lonely mother see her son?" She twisted her smiling face into what one might have thought was a parody of an angry cat, which also happened to be her best pleading-puppy look. It never worked on him – or anyone else for that matter. In fact, he chuckled to himself – it rather scared small children. He looked away from her and out to the now open window that he adamantly closed and bolted up.

"A while mother? Its been almost five _years_" He jeered austerely, "and…you can actually make tea, since when can you do anything for yourself?"

She smiled again, and lifted the hot tea to her immaculate red lips, took a sip and then spoke calmly, "Of course I know where you live, that girl, what was her name? The one you lived with told me about a week ago that you still lived here and told me that I aught to see you, she worries about you, it seems. I have changed since we last saw each other you know. I'm not the only one that has changed." She retorted, changing her smile into a mischievous grin.

He glowered at her, "You spoke to _her_?" He gripped the countertop for support with one hand, hiding his need of restraint from his mother and subconscious fear of her words. Morning - in the kitchen - over tea - was not the time or place for attacking or verbally assaulting one's mother. She smiled over her tea most obviously hiding something.

"I just saw her while shopping last week." He watcher her, incredulously, and walked up to her grazing the floor under his feet.

Standing no more than two feet from her, he growled, "That's more likely than hell freezing over," he snatched at her wrist, forgetting the consequences of hurting her, and grabbed harder on her arm than he had intended, "the last time you saw me was when father was still alive, torturing her for information. It's not very likely you two had a chat while shopping and _you,_" he slowed his words and shook from fear of what he might do to his own mother, "of all people should know why!"

He flung her arm against the counter top, just a little too hard and hissed wickedly

_I should break your arms - just for good measure_, he thought vengefully, but backed away instead. He thought - realizing to himself, that since his father was murdered, his mother wouldn't hurt anyone. _She would hurt me on purpose, though_ he thought while scowling at her tea, and by being here bringing up skeletons in the closet hurts me more than anything, and all because of _her._

She winced slightly, and her face fell. "I thought maybe you would have forgiven me for everything. I suppose I was being ridiculous for thinking that you would forgive anyone. For my sake – no for your own sake you need to find forgiveness or you will surely find death at the end of this path you have chosen. I don't want to live for the day I see my son's death and I hate seeing you like this, no matter how vile you have been. You are still my son, my only son."

She turned to leave, putting her long black coat on hiding her would-be tears with her willowy grace and painted countenance. She grazed her long thin fingers across his cheek, and leaned towards his ear whispering something he never grasped; then she turned and left with a swish of her coat. He heard his door click and fell down to the chilly floor in what could only be described as a seizure of fervent, irate tears.

In that moment he decided that his life needed to change. He would not allow himself to go down this path. His watery eyes gazed out the window and smiled through his pain – he thought of what she would do if she could see him in his darkest moment.

_She pulled her feet up onto the sofa in the middle of the sitting room and ran her hands through his hair. _

_"You know I love you, right?" she spoke with a kindness to her regal lover who was leaned against the arm of the sofa. She inched closer to his oscillating chest and wrapped her arms around him. He took a sip from the crystal glass which held one of his favourite drinks. _

_Not moving he whispered, "I know you love me." She slunk away from him, knowing she sat only inches from him but there was nothing she could do to mend the miles that gaped between their minds. _

_She sat back against the sofa and wondered where they were going, after she moved in with him, everything between them seemed to spiral into a perpetual hell. She ran the back of her hand gently across his cold cheek, "Talk to me, I know something is wrong, you can talk to me you know. I care about what happens to you." _

_This time he tilted his head back and swallowed the rest of his drink in one go. "I really don't think you want to know what is going on with me this time." He turned back to move away and she reached for his wrist, "Don't leave me here alone with the fire. Come and sit down and tell me what is driving you away from me!" She looked up to him with tears threatening to run down her face. _

_He couldn't take her pity and sadness anymore. He must end it, and he knew the only way how. He raised his hand and hit her hard across the face, knocking her to the floor. "You stupid girl, you have no idea what I go through everyday. I changed my life for you; I gave up an _entire _life for you." He threw his glass into the flaming fire where it shattered into millions of sparking pieces. He picked her up off the floor by the front of her shirt with one hand and growled viciously, "I know you love me, but I feel nothing but distain for you, I never really loved you. All you ever were to me was a past time; I should have listened to my parents when they told me to leave the gutter trash where it belonged." _

_Her tears spilled out of her red-rimmed eyes as she fought against his cruelty and struggled to not collapse onto the floor. Her right cheek rose with a bruise, which showed up in mean purple and green shades. "I _know _you loved me, you wouldn't be acting like this if you didn't. I -"_

_He stopped her by throwing her to the floor, "Get out. Get your things and get out. I don't want you anymore." He looked down on her, for what he thought would be the last time ever and walked away to his bedroom. _

_After collecting herself the best she could in moments, she went to collect all of her belongings – and found them discarded on the floor in front of their bedroom. She grabbed most of them and shoved them into a bag from the coat closet, tossed her key into the burning coals of the fire, and walked away without looking back._

He remembered their last night together, and thought painfully if she saw him now, she would probably do no worse than what he deserved for what he had done. He picked himself up off the ground and walked to the bedroom. Today was going to be different he decided. He was going to start over. It was time to right things the best he could. Amends wouldn't be easy – but dealing with ten years of heartache and unsettled troubles usually weren't.


	3. A Plan, Parchment and a Plot

Sorry this took so long to get up. Thanks to the reviewers. I hope to see more reviews after this chapter. Hopefully everyone will enjoy this and I am now working on chapter four. It looks like I might actually finish this story in five chapters. :-)

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CHAPTER 3 - A Plan, Parchment and a Plot

_He felt the cold gloved hand grip his shoulder tightly. He looked down at the floor to avoid looking at the face that belonged to the hand. After years of being at the receiving end of cold violence, he finally took the family route and battered down the one he loved. _

_"I was right about her, you know," his father stated almost _too _collected for the situation, "she was nothing but trouble and trash, you should have never even talked to someone that far below _us_."_

_He cringed, he knew what he was doing was wrong, he knew what his father was saying was wrong. He felt more powerless than he had felt up until this point in his life. His father was far too powerful a man to run up against. Only a fool would go up against one of the most powerful men in the entire world. _

_He thought for a moment, then spoke slowly, "I know you are right father, I am sorry for not listening to you sooner." His thoughts ran wild, only a fool, but I have been a greater fool for doing this. Something must be done to right all of my wrongs. He turned around to face his father, they were the same height, but in that moment he felt about half the size, not because his father was a better man, but because he knew following him was not the path he wanted. He knew in his heart that this could be the defining moment of the rest of his life. He would not be a ruthless leader like his father; innocent people would not die at his hands. _

_There was only one problem with his would-be decision: this evening had already defined who he was deep in the pit of his soul. He had almost killed someone – someone he loved. If he could hurt her – what could he do to other people? His mind stopped on that thought and looked into the eyes of the man facing him. They were so like his – cool and rich. There was one difference, he had felt love before. His father turned love away along with every other emotion but distain and hatred for all those he didn't deem worthy of his presence. Maybe this one night hadn't changed his entire conscious; maybe he could still be right with God. Maybe she could still love him. There was only one way to prove his love to her. He had given his birth rights up once before, and been disowned by the man standing in front of him offering him a second chance at what he was born to do. Most people weren't given a second chance at anything. His life had wound up to this point – there was a fork to choose between. Like a bolt of lightening hitting a sapling tree, a thought struck his brain. There might be a way to have both. _

_He took his fathers outstretched hand and shook it smoothly. With one gesture he was welcomed back into his family, and in a few short days he decided. His family would be changed drastically. _

For the first time in ages, he stepped out in the cool air. His coat whipped behind him in rhythm with the wind and small flakes settled on his head. He knew his destination – but getting in would be the hard part. A few years back it would have been impossible to do the simple act of walking on the street like he was doing now. He was glad people forgot easily – especially when the press found that someone from such a refined family beat a young girl – almost to death.

Traditional travel would suit his means – he would try as best he could to be inconspicuous. As he boarded the train – he thought of what he would say upon his arrival or if he would even be able to see them. He shrugged mentally and leaned his forehead against the frosty glass.

He stepped off the train and walked slowly up to the building. It would have never been a place he would choose to live with the cream walls and yellow brick trim. He sneered at the common building and pulled his coat closer to his slender body and slunk towards the elevator trying to avoid the front desk attendant. Being subtle was not one of his strong suits he grimaced as the front desk clerk called out to him. "Sir would you plea-"

He walked faster digging his shoes harder into the floor as he walked ignoring the man calling after him. Boarding the elevator the attendant asked for the floor and looking straight forward he breathed out, "Fourteen, if you would please."

The elevator stopped after what felt like an eternity and the doors slipped open. His expensive shoes clicked on the hard floor and he walked up to his destination and rapped on the door. He heard muffled voices of a woman on the other side. He wondered if he could slip away down the corridor before she opened the door to see him there, making an effort towards something he thought was impossible. Just as he started to weigh his options the door opened to reveal a woman in her late 20s with short dark hair. Not who he had expected to see here, and made him wonder if his God really was a vengeful God. She glared through wire rimmed glasses and placed a hand on her hip.

She spoke through pursed lips, "What do you want?" A taller man called in from the bowls of the flat, "Hon, who is it?" She didn't answer and just glared towards him. He thought that if he stood there any longer without saying anything, his body would burst into flames. The man who he was seeking strode up to the woman and placed a protective hand on her shoulder. "What are you doing here? I hope you aren't looking for any trouble. If I knew yo-"

"I need some questions answered. Please. It won't take long. Then I will be gone for another ten years." He knew it wasn't totally why he had appeared at their door after all these years, but it might be enough to get him in to talk to them. The man who stood before him, wore common clothes, and looked like an average man. He was anything but average; he was the antithesis to everything he saw himself as. This man was a wholesome, good person who looked out for his friends and family, someone who went to work everyday to provide for his wife and loved all those who deserved it. He led a simple life, but people loved him – admired him –adored and fawned over him. He scowled when he remembered how the people loved him. People protested against him – they wanted him banished from the country or put away so that he couldn't hurt anyone else.

"Is that all you want?" the mans voice broke his thought.

"Not entirely," he spoke civily, "I want to talk to you about…about what happened ten years ago." He looked at them both hopefully. No one moved or seemed to breathe.

"Get out of our home, we won't give you any information," the man's words cut the silence and across the distance like a freshly sharpened saber. "We don't want you here. We don't want to bring back all those years of heartache up for a null matter. People move on, we suggest you do the same, and know that some people don't want you any more."

He glared, "I'm not in your home, I'm standing outside in the corridor, and if you like you can answer my questions here." He smirked, knowing he just pushed all the wrong buttons – but subconsciously looking for a fight.

The woman took a step behind her husband; almost knowing what was coming next and shrieked when her husband lunged from the doorway to his throat.

"Harry!" She yelped and held him back with her cast iron grip. It would have usually taken a stronger man to hold him back, but her judgment won over any man's strength. If she wanted him to talk then he would talk.

Green eyes met silver. "Wait out here a moment," and Harry shut the door hard enough to make the door frame crack. Draco stood shocked to the point of his numbness subsiding. He wiped off what would have been a smile if he had been a happier person and the door opened.

"Come in," said Harry's wife. She was shorter than him. Much shorter. He looked down at her and smirked and he passed through the door frame. Harry sat on a sofa, staring at him past a dining room and a short dark coffee table. "Sit down, tell me what you want this time, and then I expect you will leave and I will never see you here again."

"Right, of course, we will do this your way," Draco sneered comically and sat down noiselessly across from Harry.

"Where is she?" Draco asked, upfront and to the point par usual. Harry twitched nervously, he probably knew where she was, knew this was the information Draco wanted the whole time and was the one thing he didn't want to tell him.

"I don't know, I haven't seen her in ages. Sorry I couldn't be more help." Harry started to stand, but icy words stopped him.

"I know you are lying to me. You were never a good liar. Not in school and certainly not now." Draco rested his hand on the side of the well worn sofa. "Tell me where she is. I don't want to hurt her. I never intended that." His cool demeanor almost broke, he felt himself collapsing at his own words, "I – I never…" Draco stammered and looked away, far out the window and wished he was somewhere other than here. Anywhere would have been fine.

"You know I loved her. I know you didn't approve. But I loved her," she shifted his eyes downwards, "…and I still do."

Harry glared at him, almost to the point of burning a hole through the top of his head. "If you loved her, why did you try to kill her? If that's love, well, then I've been sorely mistaken my whole life on what love is." Draco, knew he was right. His pride got the best of him 10 years ago, and he didn't want that to happen now. He was in full realization that he needed her in his life.

"I need her. I need her more than I need to live," he said and took a long breath of air and exhaled slowly, "Please, just – let me talk to her. I won't lay a hand on her."

Harry examined Draco's fallen face. He had never seen him so torn apart, ever. With an intake of air and a few seconds of hesitation, Harry looked to his wife, and with her nod of approval, he scrawled an address onto a piece of parchment, folded it, and slid it across the coffee table.

Draco raised his head, allowing his hair to fall back into its natural resting place. His eyes were wider than normal, full of shock. He had his ticket. He was closer to her now than he had been in ten years. His mouth opened but no words came out. He couldn't find any appropriate words.

Harry, realizing that Draco was speechless started, 'If you hurt her, I will kill you. I will be more brutal with you than you have been in your lifetime, tenfold."

Draco slid the parchment into his hand, nodded and swept out of their flat and back onto the cold street.

_He stared at his father across from the mile-long dining table. Being served food again was a nice relief from cooking, but if his plan worked he would continue to live a life of luxury with the love of his life. All he had to do was ensure that all of this was his. _

_'Father, I need you to tell _someone _that I need that horrible house elf GONE and my room to be completely redecorated _to-day_," Draco said with a whine in his voice. He was always good at acting the part of the rich spoiled brat. _

_His father looked up with an irritated arrogance from the parchment he held. "I will send for someone after breakfast." Draco scowled, made sure that his father knew he was unhappy about having to wait for the problem to be resolved. "Fine," he drawled out and exhaled with a false contentment._

_That was all the time Draco needed. His father would have to find someone to dispose of the house elf, and interview people who would be up to his standards to redecorate Draco's wing of the mansion._

_After leaving the breakfast room, Draco informed his father he would be going out the rest of the morning to shop for a new book to keep up his reading. After changing into his traveling cloak, he stood in front of a large mirror, staring at himself, almost in disbelief of what he was about to do. His black gloved hand held a dark green vial and he quickly tucked it away in his cloak. His face was hard with emotionless cold demeanor. He had to feel this way to carry out his plan._

_He walked briskly down a corridor, his cloak billowing behind him. If he didn't do this soon, he knew he would never do it. By forcing his father to leave the dining room early, it freed up the kitchen for him to put his plan in motion. He spotted it. His father's favorite brandy. He pulled the already opened bottle down dumped the vial into it, closed the bottle back up, and placed it back on the shelf. He smirked and all he had to do was wait. _

_Draco returned with his morning purchase, and met his father in his study. "Did you red our house of that horrid vermin already father?"_

_Lucius looked up at his son, nodded curtly in his direction after a stony stare and went back to reading. Draco noticed the half full glass by his father's left hand. Good, he thought to himself. The process has started. "I will be off reading. Let me know when you've found the decorator."_

_Lucius looked up again and nodded almost sloppily then took a sip of his brandy. Draco smirked nervously as he left the room. _


	4. Fears and Fountains

I'm SO sorry it's been so long since I've updated! I really wanted tyo update, but I've been working on writing for college and mow I'm wirting a dissertation. Loads of fun, let me tell you. Well I hope there are still those of you out there reading this and enjoying it. I kind of whipped this up quickly. I hope there aren't too many mistakes. :) Enjoy!

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Chapter Four

_This was the first time reality hit him. He had bitten off too much. He wanted the best of two worlds that didn't commonly mix. He wanted his family fortune and he wanted the love of his life. Unfortunately, his father detested her, she wasn't their type. He chose her for a while, thinking he would be able to live without money. When the threats started against her life from his families associates he couldn't take it. He had put her in danger. It was his fault and he couldn't live with the guilt if he was the reason for her death. _

_Oh, how ironic life is. He had almost been the reason for her death. He left her and rejoined his family. While his plan hadn't gone as he thought it might have. His father wanted more. He wanted proof that Draco was back on his side. Back under his thumb. He thought it would have been easier. She would forgive him in time. She would never understand how he needed this. He needed his father's money, his family's prestige. Didn't she see how, if he committed this tiny sin they could have everything? They could have the world at their feet. _

_Lucius brought her in early one morning. Her screams filled every room at the mansion. He had taken her below, into the dungeon, and chained her to the wall. Draco tried to drown out her screams, trying to block out what he knew would happen, if it wasn't already. After the longest hour of his life, his door opened. He expected this would happen. He had also expected his poison to work faster. Maybe it hadn't worked after all. _

_Earlier that evening, he had filled his father's brandy with a subtle, but potent poison that should have imitated a natural death. It either wasn't affecting his father, or it hadn't been as potent as he had anticipated. When Draco looked up, he noticed that his father, however menacing and haughty he presented, he looked tired and worn. Maybe it was working, slower than originally expected, but having an affect none the less. _

"_Draco, come with me son," Lucius demanded in his mock attempt to sound fatherly, "I need you to prove your worth to this family. You shamed us among our friends and you must now prove that she means nothing to you." _

_Draco shuddered. He knew what his father meant. He knew what was coming. He had heard her screams earlier. She was probably already close to death. He had to be strong and make sure that no one saw through him to his long term plans. _

_They steered through the winding hallways of the mansion until they reached the dungeon door. Draco gulped, this was it. This is how he would get his family fortune and still have her. He has mulled it over in his head a thousand times over, just in this past day. _

_The heavy door creaked open and revealed a very unexpected scene. She wasn't alone. Her long hair was matted with blood and dirt and her arms bound to the heavy stone wall with invisible clamps. But, that wasn't what surprised him. It was the twelve other figures in the room, all men, hooded against the wall with a different but all equally vile look upon their faces staring back at him that was the unexpected piece that blew his plan all to hell. "Shit." He murmured, too softly for anyone else to hear. The door creaked closed behind his father as they both moved towards the center of the room._

Draco's head snapped up as he snapped out of his daydream. If it was only a daydream instead of a terrible memory, he thought. The taxi stopped at the address Harry had given him. The parchment was already well worn as his fingers rubbed it and twisted it into a thin cylinder for the millionth time in the last hour. The taxi ride had been relatively short as compared to time it had taken to convince himself to actually try to see her. He wasn't sure what to expect. He hadn't seen her in ten years, wasn't even sure she was alive or even in the country after what he had done.

As he got out of the taxi, he looked up at the building that bared the address Harry had given him. He glanced down at the paper once again to check her flat number. He exhaled heavily and moved across a large square with years of weight across his shoulders to determine his fate. The square he crossed was cobbled in various grey and brown stones with a large fountain at the center. _Why would a fountain be going during the winter?? Bloody idiots leaving the fountain on!! _Draco cursed as a gust of wind blew cold water onto the side of his face as he passed the fountain. He walked faster towards the entrance to the building to escape the frosty wind and irritating fountain water.

He entered the building quickly after an older woman and raced up the stairs passed her. He checked the number over again and came to the door that matched the number on the tattered paper. He stood in front of the white door, with his hand lifted to knock and thought twice. He had second thoughts racing across his mind about coming here.

_This is a very, VERY bad idea. Why are you even here, you know what she will do to you. The rest of your life will be spent locked up. Do you really want that? She probably thinks you are dead, and we are both better off for it. _Draco thought. He chuckled a mirthless laugh at the irony of death being better than his sad excuse for a life and what he probably deserved instead. _After what I did to her…_ his thoughts trailed off.

His hand whipped back into his coat pocket and he turned away from the door and walked down the hall at a brisk pace. He didn't stop walking until he was outside the building. He staggered up to the offending fountain shooting cold water into the chilly air and sat on its stone ledge just close enough to torture himself with the mist of cold water hitting his face. _This is what I deserve._ He thought to himself. _I deserve endless torture until the end of my days. _He shivered from the water droplets that landed on him.

Just as he looked toward the building entrance, he saw a tall handsome man emerge from the building wearing a black cap followed closely by a woman with cropped auburn hair. He clutched her small hand in his. _As if she would blow away…_thought Draco, _I knew that feeling…_ he inhaled and he tensed. She was thin and pale. His eyes widened and then squinted. He looked less dignified as he tried to hide his face and steal quick glances across the fountain. _It could be _her_. _He thought. _She had the right body frame but the wrong hair…it was short, too short and darker. She could have changed it, keeping it cut would help he forget my preference of long hair on her. _Draco stole another glance at the couple and exhaled the air he had been holding in far too long. "Not her," he mumbled to himself getting up from the fountain ledge.

"Not who, exactly?" a voice startled him out of his concentration. Draco slowly turned to see blue eyes glaring into his silver. _Oh SHIT. _Draco thought as he was thrust into the fountain with a huge icy splash.

"You BASTRD! Showing up here! To see her! HOW DARE YOU!" The taller man leaped in after him with outstretched arms seeking out Draco's throat. Before his hands could find Draco's throat, he felt a large shoe covered foot connect with his left ribs. Twice. Draco fell face first into the fountain hitting his face hard. Blood filled his sight and he cringed and closed his eyes. Finally the large cold hands took hold across Draco's throat lifting his head out of the water to prevent drowning but cruelly cutting off all possibilities of oxygen from reaching his lungs. Draco was sure this was the end. _How pitiful _he thought, _I'm going to die in a cold fountain, strangled to death by…_

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud screeches getting louder until he heard another person splash into the fountain. The shrill screams could be heard over the murmuring crowd forming around the fountain that he was only vaguely aware of.

"RON! Stop! Don't kill him! STOP! Ron STOP! Let get out of here!" a woman swished through the bitter fountain water. "He isn't worth your time, and you know that," she said, much softer, and apparently much closer as she talked to Draco's attacker. The large hands that had been crushing his windpipe loosened but didn't let go. Draco felt another set of hands on his skin. Smaller hands. _Her _hands. Every muscle in Draco's body tensed. "C'mon, let go of him Ron," she almost whispered. Ron must have been leaning down because Draco could hear her clearly. Draco thought he heard the man mumble something and then grunt. Draco felt her hands pull on Ron's and air flooded his lungs as the large hands cutting off oxygen flow were removed.

Draco turned over and plopped ungracefully into the water. When he looked up from where he sat shivering, only to see two faces glaring at him. One belonged to one person he never wanted to see, especially not now. Ron, her older, temperamental, overprotective bully of a brother loomed over him like a bad dream. The other was _hers. _She was thinner, almost unhealthily thin looking. Her hair was shorter than but not as short as the woman's he had mistaken for her earlier. It fell just passed her shoulders that were covered with a water-splotched wool coat. She looked like a supermodel from his point of view, no matter how dark the circles under her eyes were. She always looked amazing, especially next to her clueless brother who, at the moment was wearing a now very soggy homemade sweater. A moment passed. _I must look pathetic. _Draco imagined from the looks on their faces.

"Gin…Ginny" Draco stuttered. "…I…I…I came here…fo-"he thought better of his words as they came out sloppily. "I needed to see you. To talk with you." Draco winced. He felt the anger radiating off of both Ginny and her brother.

Ginny stepped out of the fountain her hair blown back by the wind and becoming soggier by the minute from her escapade in the fountain and the shooting water being blown by the wind. She turned angrily, holding the better portion of her temper back, "I have _NOTHING_ to say to you. _NOTHING!"_

Ron looked on as his sister ran as fast as she could while in wet shoes in the cold air towards the building. Just after she entered the building Ron glared again towards Draco through falling fountain water. "If I _EVER _see you around here again, I won't let her stop me. I will kill you, or worse." Ron continued to glare over his shoulder as he lumbered clumsily out of the fountain, thoroughly soaked through from the glacial water leaving Draco soaked, wet and humiliated inside the fountain. If he hadn't been sitting in a freezing fountain with bold dripping from his face he would have laughed as Ron almost fell while climbing out of the fountain. He stood up and looked on as the crowed that had formed during the brief fight dispersed across the square. Draco's subconscious told him to escape quickly back to his own bedroom, to shed his wet clothes that were becoming colder by the moment and to never leave his own bed ever again. He couldn't face her ever again. She detested him, but what else had he expected. _How could she love – no_, forgive_ someone who had almost killed her?_ he asked himself silently as he crawled out of the fountain.

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Not to beg or anything...but I really love reviews. Please, please, pretty pretty please review???


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